


when the moonlight hits your eyes

by the_problem_with_stardust



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: College Student Stiles, Deputy Derek Hale, Emissary in Training Stiles Stilinski, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, Multi, Mutual Pining, Pining, Police Officer Derek, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-21 17:11:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12462219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_problem_with_stardust/pseuds/the_problem_with_stardust
Summary: “Do you have any holiday plans?” The question is out of Derek’s mouth before he’s even all the way through the door.Stiles looks up from one of the ancient books he has spread across the floor. He sticks a post-it underneath the sentence he was on and rolls onto his back. “Nope. My dad is going somewhere and he won’t give me any hints.” Craning his head back so he’s looking at Derek upside down, he frowns. “It’s weird because I usually can annoy all kinds of information out of him. I must be getting rusty.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [froggydarren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggydarren/gifts).



> Written for froggydarren's prompt: Stiles and Derek pretend to be a couple to help Derek solve a case that happens at a holiday resort/retreat. When there, they find out that the Sheriff and Melissa are also already there and both couples assume the other one is faking. They're not.
> 
> Also, a huge thank you to [@myblackeyedboy](http://myblackeyedboy.tumblr.com/) for catching my typos and spelling/grammar mistakes ♥

“Here’s another one.” The casefile thumps down on top of the stack already sitting on Derek’s desk. He stifles a groan and flips open the cover.

Just as he suspected, it’s another mysterious drowning. This one in a backyard pool. The others were in a nearby lake, the reflecting pond in front of one of Beacon Hills’ banks, the lap pool at the gym, and the aquarium. There are no real connections between any of the victims, no patterns in age, gender, location, income, or looks. Just the same type of weight and chain that seems to be the cause of death.

He scrubs a palm over his tired eyes and settles back to read the new file. Maybe something will come up in this one, tie the pieces together. It’s wishful thinking, but Derek doesn’t know what else to do. The whole case stinks of the supernatural. How else would the killer manage to get past the security in the aquarium? Or even around the bank?

“Seriously, Derek?” Jordan’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “Tell me you’re going home tonight.”

Derek opens his mouth to protest that he’s fine, then freezes when he registers the familiar roar of an approaching vehicle. He glares at Jordan who shrugs, an innocent look covering his face. This is why Derek doesn’t like having friends. Jordan knows his weaknesses.

A few moments later, Stiles enters the station in a flurry of cold air. He waves at various people before heading straight for Derek.

“I’m confiscating these until you get some sleep.” Jordan flips the new casefile shut and gathers up the entire stack. “Hey, Stiles. Nice to have you back.”

Stiles returns the greeting, clapping Jordan on the shoulder. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“Anytime.” The casefiles wind up tucked into Jordan’s file cabinet.

At the moment, Derek isn’t sure that he can make it to the breakroom for more coffee, let alone take on a hellhound and a locked drawer. He sighs and turns to where Stiles is leaning against his desk. “Can I help you?”

Stiles grins, undeterred by his gruff tone. “Good to see you too, man. I can’t believe how much I missed your sour face.”

It’s been over four months since Stiles was in Beacon Hills. Derek would know, he’s counted almost every day. But Stiles is finishing his degree across the country and spent Thanksgiving break with his (now former) significant other. It bothers Derek that he hasn’t given anyone the details over what happened. Not even Derek himself and they have scheduled Skype times every Wednesday. Plus Stiles texts him constantly. Which should be annoying. Except it isn’t.

“Imagine my surprise when I got home to a message that _someone_ has been working themselves to death.” Stiles’ grin goes sharp. “Especially when that _someone_ keeps telling me everything is fine.”

Derek wants to argue, but he’s too exhausted to put his thoughts in order. Stiles seems to get that because he vanishes and then reappears with Derek’s coat and bag. It should be concerning that he was able to break into Derek’s locker that quickly. He’ll worry about that later.

“Come on, big guy. I’m taking you home.”

When Derek automatically reaches into his desk for his keys, Stiles stops him.

“You aren’t driving like this.”

The jeep is still the same as Derek remembers. It smells a little musty from being kept in the garage while Stiles was away, but the lingering scent of pack and Stiles keeps him relaxed. He doesn’t comment when Stiles gets out at his apartment building and follows him inside. But when he reaches for his bag, still slung over Stiles’ shoulder, he gets reprimanded.

“Nope. You are taking a nap. I am ordering food. You can think about work after you’ve had something to eat.” Stiles drags him toward the couch and Derek goes willingly. He collapses onto the cushions, letting sleep claim him for the first time in several days.

When Derek wakes up, Stiles is standing at his kitchen table, papers and photos and files stacked around him. He has a highlighter between his teeth and is scribbling something down while nodding at whoever is on the other end of the phone line.

Derek rolls to his feet. The smell of takeout and coffee lingers in the air, along with the heady scent of Stiles. He wants to bask in the comfort of it all. But soon Stiles will go back to Boston and Derek will stay in Beacon Hills.

“Mhmm. Okay. Thank you.” Stiles hangs up and drops his phone onto a pile of tax returns.

It takes a moment to recognize the name on the form as one of the victims in his case. Derek sighs. “I’m going to save the lecture because I know your Dad has been trying for years. But really?” He doesn’t know how long he slept, but it doesn’t feel long enough for Stiles to have gathered this much evidence.

Stiles has the grace to look sheepish. “Jordan’s message implied that there was something off about the case. So, as a card-carrying member of the supernatural population in Beacon Hills, I decided to take a look.”

“Did you find anything?”

“Yes, actually.” Stiles shuffles through some of the papers. It’s been years and Derek still hasn’t figured out how his organization system works. “Alright. At some point in the past two decades, each of the victims has stayed at Burning Springs Lodge.”

“The couple’s resort?” Derek frowns, spotting a map with the resort circled in red and a blue ‘x’ at each location where a body was found.

“Yup.” He emerges with a list of names written in his haphazard scrawl. “And it looks like they each went with someone other than their spouse.”

“So they were unfaithful?”

“No, not that. Like one guy went with his ex-wife then got remarried, a lady went with her high school sweetheart but then married someone different five years later.”

Finally Derek gets where Stiles is going with this. “And a week after the wedding, they were dead.”

Stiles nods.

“And you still think there’s something not human about the killer?”

“Definitely. If they were human, you’d have found them by now.” The conviction in Stiles’ voice is almost overwhelming.

Derek lets out a slow breath. “So what’s the plan?”

“What, me?” Stiles looks up, surprised.

“Now you think you shouldn’t be involved?”

“Fair point.” Stiles concedes. “Probably go to the resort as a guest? Try and feel out the place and see if anyone or anything screams magic?”

“I can’t use that as an excuse to go undercover.”

Stiles snorts. “Well, at least your boss would believe you.”

Derek’s phone buzzes from the coffee table. He scoops it up and frowns at the new text message from Jordan. _Are you alive???_ He blinks in confusion, then realizes it’s two in the afternoon. His shift starts now.

Automatically, Derek digs into his pocket for his keys, then remembers his car is still at the station. Stiles almost seems to read his mind. “Hang on, let me give you a ride back.”

The first thing Derek does (after reassuring Jordan that he’s still alive) is fill out a request for time off. Within minutes of hitting send, he looks up to find John Stilinski headed his way.

The sheriff sets the paperwork on his desk. “Here is the approval for your request.”

“It was approved already?” The speed at which the request was processed is surprising.

“You haven't requested a single day off in three years. It’s about time you took a bit of vacation.” John gives him an intense look reminiscent of Stiles. “You deserve it, son.”

Derek doesn’t know how to reply to that. Luckily, John doesn’t need his help to keep a conversation going.

“Are you sticking around Beacon Hills?”

Derek nods. “I haven't planned much, but since I have the time I might do something festive.” And he might, actually. It’s been years since he put up a tree or had homemade baked goods.

John smiles, then looks guilty “I hate to ask this, but I’m going away for a week or so. Stiles insisted he would be fine while I’m gone, but I don't want to leave him alone, especially after a break-up.”

“And you want me to check in on him?” Derek guesses.

“If it wouldn't be too much trouble. I know you two are close.”

“Absolutely, sir.”

John looks relieved. “If I had known he was coming home, I never would have made plans.”

“It’s really not a problem. He’s already got his thesis covering my living room.”

“Better yours than mine.”

They both laugh at that. Jordan interrupts, “The autopsy report for the latest vic is available.”

“Keep up the good work.” The sheriff leaves and Derek flips through the report. There is nothing new, except for the mention of runes marked around the metal cuff of the chain. It sounds a lot like magic. Which can only mean one thing. He pulls out his phone and subtly tries to make a reservation. Then he distractedly fills out paperwork and waits for his shift to end.

“Do you have any holiday plans?” The question is out of Derek’s mouth before he’s even all the way through the door.

Stiles looks up from one of the ancient books he has spread across the floor. He sticks a post-it underneath the sentence he was on and rolls onto his back. “Nope. My dad is going somewhere and he won’t give me any hints.” Craning his head back so he’s looking at Derek upside down, he frowns. “It’s weird because I usually can annoy all kinds of information out of him. I must be getting rusty.”

Derek shakes his head at how ridiculous he looks. “I’m going to infiltrate the resort.”

“I knew it!” Stiles crows. “Who are you taking as your date?”

After a second of hesitation Derek says, “You.”

“Me?” Stiles doesn’t sound excited any more.

He hurries to explain. “Well, you figured out the connection and I’m pretty sure you opened my locker using magic yesterday, so yes. You.”

The considering expression stays fixed on Stiles’ face. “Do they serve food at this resort?”

“It’s all-inclusive?” Derek is starting to second-guess everything.

Stiles finally grins. “This is going to be awesome.”

\---

The busted wheel on Stiles’ suitcase squeals as he pulls it across the parking lot of Burning Springs Lodge. This whole charade is a terrible idea. He has no idea what he was thinking when he agreed to pretend date Derek. The glass doors to the lobby slide open and he pauses, letting the warm air from inside the resort wash over him. Maybe it isn’t too late to call it off.

“Hey, everything alright?” Derek is watching him with a concerned expression and Stiles wants to shy away from the warmth in his eyes. Damn his stupid crush and his inability to say no to those ridiculous eyebrows.

Stiles plasters on a grin. “Everything is peachy keen, babe.”

Derek rolls his eyes at the pet name and heads over to the front desk to confirm their registration. While he speaks to the concierge, Stiles takes in their surroundings. There are three fireplaces just within sight of the lobby, surrounded by cozy looking armchairs and floor to ceiling bookcases.

He wanders over to the closest one, picking up a brochure off of the end table. The place looks ridiculous. There are nature hikes, art classes, fishing, an indoor pool, and all kinds of spa stuff. On the back is a picture of one of the rooms, showcasing the heart shaped whirlpool bath.

“See anything you want to do?”

Stiles jumps, nearly dropping the brochure. Derek is holding both of their bags because Stiles definitely left his suitcase in the middle of the lobby when he went to investigate the fireplace. Oops.

But Stiles has a part to play, so he makes a vague affirmative sound. “Do you need help with the bags?”

Derek smirks. “No. But if you could get the key out of my pocket when we get to the door, it would be a big help.”

“Sure thing, babe.” Stiles throws in a suggestive wink and tries not to react to the idea of getting his hands on Derek’s ass. This was such a bad idea.

Their room is just as ridiculous as the brochure promised. Stiles sinks down onto the king sized bed and groans. “This is amazing. I’m never leaving.”

Across the room, Derek drops his wallet. Stiles is too comfortable to care. He stays where he is for what feels like days until Derek clears his throat.

“We should probably get going.”

Stiles pries his eyes open. “I thought dinner was at seven?”

“There’s drinks and hors d’oeuvres first.”

Letting out another deep sigh, Stiles rolls off the bed. He smooths out his rumpled button-up and runs a hand through his hair. It’ll have to do.

The bar has a weird vibe to it, but Stiles attributes that fact more to the overly romantic atmosphere than to any supernatural causes. Derek brings him a drink, looking way too attractive for someone who just spent three hours in a car.

Stiles leans into him, about to ask what his super-senses were picking up, when all of his thoughts went flinging out of his head. “Oh fuck.”

Derek follows his gaze to where his dad and Melissa just entered the bar. For a moment, Stiles revels in the fact that he has never seen the werewolf so caught off guard. Then his dad spots them and his stomach drops down to his knees.

“Hello, boys.” Melissa slides into the stool next to Derek.

“Hey, Mel. I guess I know what Dad’s super-secret plans are now.”

John leans on the bar next to Melissa. “This really isn’t what I had in mind when I asked you to check in while I was away.”

Derek turns pink and ducks his head. “Sorry, sir.”

Stiles finishes his drink in one long swallow, setting the glass on the bar with more force than necessary. “If you’re done terrorizing my boyfriend, it’s time to eat.”

On that note, they file into the dining room with the rest of the guests. Stiles tries to pick somewhere far away from his dad, but he and Melissa pull up a table next to them. Derek tips him a half smile. They’ll talk later.

The theme for dinner is Italian, so Stiles gorges himself on salad, minestrone, and fancy bread before their meals even arrive. Derek just steals the olives off of the corner of his plate and hooks their legs together under the table. It’s awful. Stiles doesn’t think he’s going to survive this dinner, let alone five more days.

When the main courses finally arrive, Stiles is not disappointed. Chicken parmesan, roasted potatoes, and grilled veggies – he will never be able to return to his college diet of ramen and protein bars. Stiles stays on edge despite the good food. He keeps expecting awkward questions from his dad, but John seems content to watch him and Derek interact while chatting with Melissa about Scott’s progress in the pre-vet program he’s enrolled in.

Then a slice of cheesecake covered in raspberry sauce replaces the empty dishes. Stiles groans. “I’m so full.”

Derek smirks. “Then you’ll have no problem with me eating it all, right?”

Stiles drags the plate toward his side of the table. “Fight me.”

The stifled snort from his dad reminds him that they aren’t alone. He passes Derek a fork. They’re adults. They can share.

“Is your room okay?” Melissa asks, finally breaking the silence between the two tables.

Stiles nods enthusiastically. “I’m super excited about checking out the rain shower. And the bed is like laying on a cloud.” He pauses to remember his brief nap with fondness.

“Are you two planning on visiting the pool?”

Stiles meets Derek’s eyes with a soft smile and squeezes his hand across the table. “We’ve had enough pool time for the rest of our lives, to be honest.”

Derek laughs quietly and smooths his thumb over Stiles’ knuckles. His expression turns curious when Stiles’ heartbeat skips in his chest.

Right before they split off for the night, Stiles’ dad grabs his shoulder. “I’m going to borrow my son for a moment.”

Derek looks uncertain until Stiles nods. “It’s alright. I’ll be up soon,”

His dad waits several minutes, probably until he figures Derek is out of hearing range. It’s hard to tell with werewolves, but Stiles figures that Derek would tune them out as a courtesy. Because Derek Hale is too polite for his own good.

“I don’t need to tell you that Derek’s been through a lot,” his dad starts out. “Please don’t let him be a rebound.”

Stiles is more relieved that someone is looking out for Derek than he is upset that his dad is giving _him_ the shovel talk. After a moment, John adds, “This better not be some charade. I know he’s been neck-deep in a case the past couple of weeks.”

Stiles cuts him off. “It’s not like that, Dad. It’s Derek. You know it’s not a rebound.”

“But does he?” His dad sighs and shakes his head. “I’m getting too old for this.”

After a moment, Stiles pulls his dad in for a hug. “Thank you. For looking out for him.”

“He’s a good man. You both are.”

They say their good nights and Stiles climbs up the ornate staircase, trying not to get nervous over what he’ll find in their room. He knew that this meant sharing space with Derek, but he still isn’t prepared for it. And he’s definitely not prepared to share a bed.

When he fumbles the door open, Derek is already dressed in sweatpants and a tank top. His feet are bare and he is wearing reading glasses. Stiles stares because he can’t think of a single moment when Derek has looked this vulnerable, not even during their skype chats or when he dragged him, exhausted and half-dead, out of the sheriff’s station a few days ago.

“Hey.” He says softly, almost like he’s afraid of scaring this new side of Derek away. “Going to bed already?”

Derek shrugs. “Might read a bit.”

“Is it okay if I work on my computer?”

He nods, so Stiles tugs off his shirt and pants. He climbs into bed in his undershirt and boxers, burrowing under the covers. The mattress is just as soft as he remembers. Derek is a calm presence beside him, occasionally turning pages while Stiles types away at his thesis (more like agonizes over three key sentences that just don’t support his argument the way that he wants them to). It is incredibly domestic.


	2. Chapter 2

Derek wakes up to his book on the nightstand, glasses folded neatly atop it. His page is marked with one of Stiles’ hot pink tabs that he uses for indicating important points in his academic journals. As far as technology has come, Stiles still seems to like the old fashioned way of working with journal articles – highlighting passages with color-coded highlighters, scribbling notes in the margins, crossing entire sections out, and all together making a mess of each thick, binder-clipped packet.

Stiles is passed out on his stomach, face pressed into his pillow and arms stretched above his head. Derek knows that he sleeps poorly, so he lets him alone.

Pulling on a sweatshirt that he definitely didn’t steal from Stiles’ suitcase, Derek heads down to breakfast. John and Melissa are already there, planning their activities for the day. They wave him over.

“Stiles didn’t make it?” Melissa asks and Derek is immediately uncomfortable, knowing they are probably assuming things.

“He was sleeping so peacefully.” He stumbles out. “That never happens. I wanted to let him rest.”

John nods. “Yeah, this senior thesis is really taking a lot out of him.”

Derek stands there, feeling awkward until a little old lady wearing a hairnet approached him.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear. Would you like to bring up a tray for your young man?”

Derek nods, grateful for the excuse. He piles a mountain of eggs, bacon, pancakes, cinnamon rolls, fruit, and whatever else he can find onto two plates and retreats back to the room. Once inside, he starts a pot of coffee.

Eventually, Stiles’ heart rate speeds up. He blinks his eyes open and focuses on Derek, who is doing the Sudoku puzzle from the paper that was left outside the door. After he orients himself, Stiles stretches languidly, shirt riding up. Derek takes a sip of his coffee and pencils in a 9.

He hears the bed creak and the scuff of feet on the hardwood floors, but doesn’t look up until Stiles collapses into the chair across from him.

“G’morning.” He mumbles, picking up Derek’s coffee and taking a sip. Startled, he stares at the mug, then at Derek, all traces of soft sleepiness gone. “The hell is this?”

Derek rolls his eyes and pours coffee into the other mug, leaving it black. “That is my coffee.” He slides the mug over. “This is yours.”

Stiles is still looking at Derek’s mug like it offended everyone he loves. Derek sighs at his dramatics and goes back to his puzzle, pondering over a 6 or a 4.

Once he gets over the world-shaking revelation that Derek likes his coffee with cream and sugar, Stiles turns his attention to the food. Derek finishes his puzzle and tries not to think too hard about the warmth of Stiles’ elbow when it rubs against his own.

They spend the rest of the morning investigating the lodge. Nothing smells weird in a supernatural way and there are no traces of magic that Derek can find. Stiles confirms that all of the carvings on the staircases, bookshelves, and tables are just decorative. It is almost weird how normal everything appears.

After a quick lunch tucked away in one of the secluded alcoves, they decide to participate in an event. Stiles goes back and forth between beginning guitar and hot yoga until Derek can’t take it anymore.

“We’re painting.” He decides, so they throw away their trash and do just that.

Derek manages to create something that looks like the flower vase in the example at the front of the studio. The instructor is normal. All of the other attendees are normal. He is starting to feel restless, like he’s missing something.

Stiles painted Sponge Bob, which is really to be expected at this point. He seems more distracted than usual, watching John and Melissa laugh at their own canvases.

“I think they’re faking.” He says, after several minutes of smelling like anxiety and unhappiness.

Derek starts gathering up the paintbrushes scattered across their table and surveys the room again. “Who?”

“Dad and Mel.”

That’s unexpected. And has nothing to do with their case. “Why?”

“I dunno.” Stiles twirls a brush through his fingers, smearing blue paint across his wrist. “Maybe Dad heard about the connection and had the same idea.”

“Stiles. It’s my case. Your dad wouldn’t interfere without talking to me first.”

“Are you sure?”

The paintbrush is dripping thick blobs onto Stiles’ jeans, so Derek reaches over and pries it out of his grasp. “Yes, Stiles.”

“But…” Stiles sounds devastated.

Derek sets the brush in the water cup and smooths a hand down his back, feeling Stiles relax into the touch. “Hey. What’s up?”

“I just…” he trails off, “Why wouldn’t he say anything?”

Derek sighs, “I don’t know.”

\---

Stiles has to pee. So bad. He’s curled up around Derek, early morning light painting the room in a soft golden glow. Derek snuffles and rubs his face against his pillow when Stiles manages to untangle himself from the werewolf’s uncooperative limbs.

After taking care of business, Stiles decides to pay Derek back with breakfast. It’s still early, so the crowd in the dining room is light. There is no sign of either Melissa or his dad, which he is thankful for.

“Can I help you with something?” One of the workers asks.

Stiles plasters on a charming grin. “Yeah, I was wondering if I could get a tray to take upstairs?”

“Certainly.” She reappears while he is inspecting the pastry selection. The guests here do not go hungry at all. “Here is your tray.”

“Thank you so much.” Stiles slides a couple of cinnamon rolls onto a plate, wondering if he should get one for Derek too.

“Do you have any exciting plans today?”

Stiles almost jumps out of his skin. In his contemplation of pastries, he had forgotten about the woman standing by his elbow. “Um, I’m not sure. Still waiting on my other half to decide something.”

She hums and pats his arm in a grandmotherly fashion. “Well, you should visit the spa. Most people find it very relaxing.”

“We will definitely consider it.” He says, then watches her drift off into the back room again. Maybe he was reading too much into it, but something about the encounter felt off.

Opening up the door while balancing a tray turns out to be no small feat. When Stiles finally sets the food down, he hears a low growl from behind him. Derek’s claws are out, fisted in the pillow, fluff spilling out. Stiles didn’t realize he had nightmares, though how wouldn’t he?

He slowly approaches the bed. Derek lets out a quiet whimper and that just about breaks Stiles’ heart. He sits in front of him on the mattress, which is probably not smart, but he can’t stand to see Derek like this.

“Hey Sourwolf. Whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real.” He carefully trails a hand down his shoulder all the way to his wrist and starts rubbing circles there with his thumb. “You’re dreaming, Derek. It’s okay.”

When Derek opens his eyes they flare for a second before settling back to their normal kaleidoscope of colors. Stiles laces their fingers together for a second, then asks, “Are you back?”

Derek nods jerkily, before pushing past him to the bathroom. Stiles lets him go. He cleans up the fluff, then throws the shredded pillow in the closet and pulls out a new one. After thinking for a moment, he moves his pillow over and puts the new one in the spot that he claimed. Maybe the unfamiliar scents are making Derek uneasy.

When Derek comes out of the bathroom, Stiles sets a mug of coffee in front of him. “I only put four sugar packets in it, so it might not be sweet enough for you. How you don’t have cavities I will never understand.”

Derek smirks, but it doesn’t meet his eyes “Werewolf.”

“Y’know, that isn’t a reason.”

The way Derek flashes his eyes, like he’s trying to be intimidating, has Stiles laughing.

“Sorry, big bad wolf. You don’t scare me anymore.”

This time, Derek’s smile is small but genuine. Stiles can’t help the overwhelming feeling of fondness that sweeps over him. The awareness that they’re not actually in a relationship settles back in Stiles’ stomach like a block of ice.

He clears his throat and focuses on his cinnamon roll. “I was told that we should visit the spa today.”

Derek sips his coffee and shrugs. “I don’t have any plans.”

So they get ready for the day, bumping into each other in the bathroom and fighting over the sink. Stiles needs to get a grip on his emotions because even he knows that his pining is getting ridiculous.

The spa is dimly lit, with soothing music playing in the background. It doesn’t help Stiles relax at all. He stays tense until Derek leans into him, arm slipping around his waist.

The masseuse seems perfectly normal too. She leads them to a private room and gestures toward the tables. “Alright. While you two change out of your clothes and lie down, I will go get some more oil.”

Stiles freezes. “Yeah that’s not going to happen.”

Because he has scars. So many scars. They’re kind of hard to explain. And Derek hates being touched by people who aren’t pack. This is a terrible idea, Even his human nose is irritated by the oils and incense and lotion smells.

Derek pulls him in, protectively. Which is weird because they’re basically the same height. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Stiles takes a shaky breath. “Maybe we should go hiking instead.”

“Okay.” Derek says easily, his stubble scraping along the side of Stiles’ neck.

Hiking turns out to be one of Stiles’ better ideas. Derek loves the outdoors and the land around Burning Springs Lodge is incredible. They walk down to the water and Stiles spends a long time poking around in the tide pools, brushing his fingers over anemones to see them shiver and staring at a starfish as it starts to crawl along the rocky surface.

“Stiles.”

He looks up from where he was watching a school of fish sparkle and change color like tiny rainbows. “Yeah?”

“It’s time to head back.”

“Why?”

“You’re freezing, idiot.” Derek grabs one of his ice-cube hands between his warm ones.

Stiles blinks, then realizes that he can’t feel his face. “Oh.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “We’ll miss happy hour too.”

They’re late to dinner, but Stiles can’t bring himself to care. It’s one of the best afternoons he’s had in a long time. And from the way Derek is smiling, he thinks so too.

\---

Derek can’t sleep. The full moon is close, singing through his veins and pulling at his wolf. It doesn’t help that everything smells like Stiles. He even gave him his pillow. Knowing the human, he probably figured a familiar scent would help Derek relax. He was right, but just not _his_ scent. All of this concentrated Stiles has Derek so keyed up he can barely think, let alone focus on the case they’re supposed to solve.

He spends a long time lying under the covers, listening to Stiles’ deep breathing and steady heartbeat. It’s both soothing and agonizing, having him this close. When his brain gets too loud to bear, Derek slides out of bed.

During the first day of their investigation, Derek had come across access to the widow’s walk. He paces there now, underneath the stars, which shine bright and clear. It is cold and he almost wishes he’d grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair. Under the light of the moon, he can see the curve of the shoreline. He stays like that, breathing in the tang of salt and seaweed that permeates the air and chasing his thoughts so far, he barely registers the familiar heartbeat behind him.

“Hey, Sourwolf.”

Stiles is wearing his jacket and Derek is just about to lose his mind. The other man has to know what he’s doing to him.

After a moment, he gives in to his instincts. He pulls Stiles closer and inhales his scent, face buried in his neck. Stiles strokes his hands up and down Derek’s back, keeping him pressed against his warm body.

“Please tell me I’m reading this right,” Stiles breathes, his lips inches from Derek’s.

It’s almost too easy to close the distance between them, his fingers coming up to trace along Stiles’ cheekbones. Stiles takes that as confirmation, mouth finding Derek’s in the dark. All of Derek’s senses seem to intensify and he’s overwhelmed by Stiles’ scent and taste, the sound of their breathing harsh in his ears.

Cold fingers work their way under the hem of his t-shirt, tracing along the edge of his sweatpants and trailing up the notches of Derek’s spine. He shivers. Stiles bites at his lower lip, then starts to mouth along Derek’s jaw.

And it is so much better than anything he’s imagined because this is Stiles. Stiles who he’s been in love with for years. Stiles whose talent and grit has helped keep the pack strong. Stiles, who is probably just looking for comfort. The reality is like a bucket of cold water, but it still takes all of Derek’s will power to break away and whisper, “Stop.”

\---

Stiles immediately backs off, eyes searching Derek’s face in the moonlight. “Are you okay?”

Derek steps away, putting even more distance between them. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Stiles’ confusion must show on his face.

“You just went through a breakup and you won’t talk to anyone about it.” Derek crosses his arms over his chest, body language closing off completely. “That’s not healthy.”

And how weird is that, Derek Hale lecturing people about healthy relationships. It’s a good change. Stiles takes a deep breath. As much as he hates it, Derek is right. They should talk.

“It wasn’t a bad breakup. We’re still friends.”

It’s Derek turn to look confused.

“Yeah, he fell for someone else, but there were never feelings involved in the first place.”

“I don’t understand.” Derek has that adorable wrinkle between his brows that Stiles wants to smooth away with his fingers - or his lips.

“Our whole relationship was just me trying to get over someone else. He totally understood that and we had some fun for a while.”

Derek frowns even harder. “But you were so upset.”

“I wasn’t upset over the breakup, I was upset that I couldn’t get over the other guy.”

Derek looks destroyed. “I can’t…”

“I know.” Stiles says softly. “I would never ask that off you.”

“The other guy doesn’t know how lucky he is.” Derek turns away to where he can probably see the ocean with his werewolf vision.

This is not going the way Stiles wants it to. “Derek…”

“Can we please forget,” Derek waves between them, “this? You’re one of my best friends. I can’t lose you.”

“Derek, please. Wait.” Stiles catches his arm to keep him from doing something stupid, like jumping off the roof and running away. “Listen to my heart.”

Derek flicks his eyes up, the moon reflecting in pupils.

Stiles feels his breath catch in his throat. “I love you. I am in love with you.” He knows his heart doesn’t skip a beat, hammering the truth out against his ribs.

“So the other guy…” Derek trails off.

“Is you.”


	3. Chapter 3

For the first time in years, Derek wakes up gradually. He turns his head from the blinding sunlight streaming across the bed through the gap in the shades and focuses on the heavy weight pinning him to the mattress. Stiles tightens his hold on him as he shifts, like some sort of mutant octopus. Not that Derek is complaining. He settles back against the sheets, cocooned in Stiles’ scent.

It doesn’t take long for the human to slip into wakefulness. Derek can hear the uptick in his breathing and heart rate as he fights off the last clinging vestiges of sleep.

Stiles groans softly and rolls off of Derek, head hitting the pillow beside him. Derek stares, transfixed, as the sunlight turns his irises to molten gold.

“How’re you feeling?” Stiles’ fingers trace along his jaw.

Derek turns into the touch, pressing a kiss against his palm. “Perfect.”

Stiles’ answering grin is something Derek wants to gaze at forever. Instead, he slides over and covers Stiles’ body with his own, caging him in with his elbows. He presses his face into the juncture between neck and shoulder, huffing as Stiles squirms beneath him.

“-tickles, Der.”

 He rubs his stubble over the spot until Stiles goes pliant, moaning when Derek nips at one of the marks he left the night before. Everything about this feels natural. He lets his hands trail down Stiles’ chest in firm strokes, smirking as Stiles arches up into the touch, eyes squeezing shut.

His tongue laves over a nipple and Stiles lets out a muffled squeak at the sensation. Derek lifts his head, eyebrows raised.

Stiles flushes even more. “Shut up, asshole.”

Derek chuckles, continuing to make his way down Stiles’ body. He noses along the base of his ribs, listening to Stiles’ breath hitch. It isn’t surprising when he feels a hand tangle in his hair. Stiles is rarely passive.

“Fuck, Derek.” Stiles moans as he licks down the line between his abs, biting gently. Derek pauses, watching the muscles clench under his hands and teeth.

He mouths along the crease of Stiles’ hip, pausing to suck a mark across the sharp cut of his hipbone. Stiles gasps, his fingers tightening in Derek’s hair. Then, his stomach makes a loud rumbling noise. Derek rests his forehead against the warm skin and snorts.

Stiles laughs so hard there are tears in his eyes. After pressing a final kiss to his hipbone, Derek sits up. He watches Stiles’ face, feeling giddy.

“Maybe we should eat before we continue this.”

It takes a moment for Stiles to catch his breath. “Sorry dude. Didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”

Derek just shakes his head and leans in for a quick kiss. But Stiles has other plans. He wraps an arm around Derek’s shoulders, hand cupping the nape of his neck, and turns the kiss filthy. This time, the noise his stomach makes drowns out Derek’s groan.

Untangling himself from the sheets and Stiles’ limbs, Derek slides off the bed. “Food first.”

Stiles grumbles, but lets Derek pull him to his feet.  

Trying to find their clothes turns out to be an adventure. Stiles’ shirt is on the floor, stained and awful, and his boxers are flung over the lamp. Derek doesn’t fare much better. His shirt somehow ended up in the bathroom and his sweatpants are under the bed with the dust bunnies.

Once they’re sort of presentable (and only sort of. Stiles’ hair definitely screams just fucked) they go down to breakfast together for the first time.

Stiles inhales three cinnamon rolls. It should be disgusting, but Derek just shakes his head and smiles down at his scrambled eggs. They haven’t stopped touching each other since they sat down and Stiles scooted his chair right into Derek’s personal space. Their legs are pressed together from hip to knee and Stiles keeps leaning into him.

Derek sets down his fork and laces their fingers together. “What are we doing today?”

“We could go back to bed.” Stiles says, somehow managing to look seductive with icing on his face. “I seem to remember being _interrupted_.”

Derek laughs and kisses the sweetness from the corner of his mouth. “We could. But I was thinking we should make the most of our last day here.”

He means researching the case, and from Stiles’ playful pout, he knows it. “Okay, fine.”

When Stiles starts to lick the remains of his last pastry from his fingers, Derek has to look away. As much as he wants to let Stiles drag him back up to the room, they have things to do. He looks up in time to see the woman from the first morning approaching their table.

“Good morning boys. How was the spa?” This time, Derek notices the nametag reading ‘Maude’ pinned to her uniform.

“Not really our speed, to be honest.” Stiles says with a lopsided smile. “We ended up going for a hike instead.”

Maude smiles brightly. “That’s good! The grounds here are just beautiful.”

“They are!” Stiles agrees, his enthusiasm making Derek feel warm. “Do you have any other recommendations?”

“Besides the spa?”

Stiles laughs, squeezing Derek’s hand. “Besides the spa.”

She pauses to think. “Have you looked into the yoga classes? Or maybe horseback riding? Those activities might be fun for active young people.”

Stiles snorts. “Oh, we are plenty active.”

Maude smiles at him indulgently. “Enjoy it now, before the old ball and chain ties you down.”

Something about the delivery of the line has Derek darting a glance Stiles’ way. Sure enough, the human has a calculating expression on his face, like he is also thinking about rune-marked chains and heavy, spherical weights.

“Thanks for the recommendation,” Stiles says, practically hauling Derek from his seat. “We’re going to go get some warmer clothes.”

As soon as the door is shut and locked behind them, Stiles goes into research mode. Derek stares openly because he’s allowed to now. And Stiles looking focused and deadly is hot.

He yanks the sheets the rest of the way off of the bed, then starts pulling the files from the drowning cases out of his bag. Derek has no idea how he fit it all in there. It has to be some kind of expansion charm. He inspects the suitcase, but it looks and smells normal. Stiles is certainly learning a lot out on the East Coast.

After a few moments, Stiles has recreated his organization system from Derek’s kitchen table on their bed. He digs out his highlighters and sets up his laptop on the breakfast table.

Derek looks through the evidence, but sees no mention of anyone named Maude. She isn’t even listed in the Burning Springs Lodge employee phone tree, which seems odd. He listens to Stiles tapping away at his keyboard, fingers flying across keys.

Several minutes later, the clacking stops. “Maude doesn’t exist.”

“So what do we do now?”

Stiles pushes back from the table. “I think it’s time to bring in my dad.”

\---

John looks over the case that Stiles has compiled across every surface of his and Derek’s room. He sighs and rubs his eyes. Stiles feels bad. This is the first vacation his dad’s taken in years and here he is, ruining it with work.

“I thought you said this wasn’t some charade.”

“It’s not.” Derek says and Stiles can’t stop the dopey smile that spreads across his lips.

“Okay.” John shuffles through the Burning Springs employee records that Stiles had totally gotten through legal means. “So you just happened to solve a case while you were relaxing and enjoying your time off?”

The question is addressed to Derek, but Stiles cuts in. “We suspected it wasn’t a human case, so we improvised.” They can tell John the real story some other time. Like after they’re married.

“And you decided to bring me in now?”

“Yeah, about that…” Stiles chews on his lip. “I’ve been learning from Emissary Michaels and she taught me how to strip someone of their powers.”

“So we’ll be able to arrest them normally?”

“Yup.” Stiles pops the ‘p.’

His dad looks resigned. “What do you need?”

“Parrish should be here in about ten minutes. Until then, I’m going to meditate.” And Stiles collapses right where he is, pulling in his feet so he’s sitting cross legged on the floor.

Meditation was the first thing that Emissary Michaels made him learn when he started training with her. In the beginning, he found it tedious. Now, he sinks down into himself and locates his spark with ease. With a gentle nudge, he coaxes it into steady blaze.

He can feel Derek hovering behind him, is hyper-aware of everyone else in the vicinity. Maude is in the kitchen, prepping for dinner. Immersed in his spark, Stiles can see the traces of dark magic clinging to her. When he senses Jordan entering the lodge, he snaps his eyes open. “We’re ready.”

Maude is alone, chopping vegetables. She looks up when Derek and Stiles enter the room. “I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out, wolf.”

Stiles steps forward, ignoring Derek’s warning growl. “You were good at covering your tracks.”

“Well, I was starting to get bored here anyway.” Maude drops the bag of carrots in her hand and picks up a knife. “You made such a lovely couple.”

The blaze in Stiles’ chest roars to an inferno. He focuses on the knife, tearing it from her grasp.

Derek pins the witch to the floor and yells, “Now!”

Draining someone of their powers is challenging, to say the least. If Stiles had to describe the feeling, he’d probably say it was like being burned from the inside out. He holds firm, reciting the incantation he pulled from the internet, ending with the Latin – _audi, vide, tace_.

The witch collapses and the last bit of her magic settles like an ache in Stiles’ bones. He’s only done this once before and he knows it will take several days for his spark to process the foreign magic. Until then, he’s going to have to deal with one hell of a headache.

Somewhere nearby, Parrish cuffs the witch, reciting the Miranda rights. Stiles is too tired to care. He stumbles over to where his dad is lecturing Derek on the procedures for doing undercover work.

“We have protocols in place for a reason, Derek.”

“Protocols don’t apply to the supernatural.” Derek says. Which is fair because how do you explain ‘suspected witchcraft’ to people not in the know?

But John ignores him. “And you involved a civilian.”

“I am sorry, sir.” And Derek actually does look contrite. “I would never do anything to put Stiles in danger.”

Stiles smiles a little at the admission. He throws an arm over Derek’s shoulder and leans heavily against him. “This civilian just saved you all a whole lot of paperwork.” Really, he thinks everything worked out okay for them in the long run.

Derek snakes his arm around Stiles’ waist and drops a kiss behind his ear. “You were incredible.”

“Thanks, babe.”

The fond eye roll he gets at the pet name makes Stiles’ heart beat double time. He tears his eyes away from Derek and looks at his dad.

“So you and Melissa? It’s real then?”

John nods. “Yes, son. It’s real.”

“Us too.” Stiles smiles as Derek pulls him in even closer.

**Author's Note:**

> Dear froggydarren,  
> I had so much fun writing this prompt for you! Hope you enjoyed it ♥
> 
> EDIT: rebloggable link (and edit) is [HERE!](https://theproblemwithstardust.tumblr.com/post/168480446922/when-the-moonlight-hits-your-eyes-for)


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